


Broken Smile

by Selah



Category: A9 | Alice Nine (Band), D-OUT (Band), Jrock, Kagrra, 己龍 | Kiryuu
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Dragons, Gen, M/M, Youkai, dragon magic, shinto magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selah/pseuds/Selah
Summary: The wheel of the year turns back around again and again and still Shin is stuck in a past he can no longer reach.





	Broken Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Written for VKY, using quote #9 ( The melody I softly sing to myself | Is carved away by time until it vanishes || そっと口ずますメロディは | 時間に刻まれて消える ) and board #3 Autumn. This is a bit more fantastical than historical, but contains elements of both.
> 
> -dono is Tora's way of acknowledging Shin as someone of high rank alongside his own. Ue-sama is semi-archaic and used to denote the speaker sees the subject as someone far above him.
> 
> The opening poem is my own composition.

_When red the maples wear_  
_And chill winds blow_  
_Remember our time together_  
_And smile for me_

 

A chill breeze rustled through leaves of red and gold; autumn had come to the shrine once more. Isshi was rather fond of the season himself, but he was well aware that others felt differently. Not everyone could appreciate the splendor of the land clad in her dying colors.

“He's doing it again.”

Isshi looked up from his book, taking in his school headmaster's furrowed brow and worried eyes. Some things changed easily. Others ... did not.

“Who is doing _what_ again?” he asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

“Shin-dono has locked himself away again.”

“It _is_ that time of year,” Isshi said, allowing himself a small smile when Tora rolled his eyes.

“Fifty years since Akiya-sama left, you would think he'd be done mourning him by _now_ ,” the other man grumbled, finally conceding to taking a seat at Isshi's desk.

“Really, Tora-kun, you of all people should know how seriously his kind take mating,” Isshi scolded softly, pouring his guest a cup of tea.

“And how _un_ seriously Akiya-sama felt about it,” Tora agreed with a low sigh.

“He took it seriously enough while he was here, but you're right,” Isshi said with a sigh of his own. “Ultimately, he wasn't as committed to Shin-kun as our dear _doragon_ was to him.”

“Can't you do something? His students are worried.”

“His students? Or you?”

“Does it matter?” Tora huffed.

“I've already done what I could, but as his friend I have to respect his beliefs,” Isshi replied, shaking his head.

It wasn't like Isshi didn't sympathize with Tora's position, but his hands were tied. Shin would mourn Akiya for as long as his heart told him to feel that loss, and nothing Isshi did or said was going to change that. As far as he could tell, the only thing likely to end Shin's melancholy was a new love, and that ... well, he wasn't going to hold his breath on that one. _Doragon_ mated for life and Shin was quite convinced that Akiya had been his one true love. At only fifty years since Akiya's departure, Isshi thought it a good sign Shin was stilling breathing, never mind being as social as he otherwise was. If the autumn leaves made him sink into a woeful melancholy every year, well, the shrine and school could and did manage just fine without him.

“Issama....”

“Leave him be, Tora-kun,” Isshi said softly. “Let him have his privacy.”

“But –.”

“I mean it, Tora-kun. Let him mourn in peace.”

Tora huffed, but at least he had stopped arguing. For now, it would have to do.

~*~*~

Shin told himself to ignore it, the soft scratching at his door that meant someone had brought him ... something. Another meal, perhaps. A voice in the back of his head tried to insist he needed to eat, but the rest of him was ignoring it. Not even two days yet, there was no danger if he skipped this meal, too.

The soft scratching repeated and still he ignored it. And then someone actually dared to slide open the door.

“Forgive me, Ue-sama,” a soft voice murmured from the shadows of the hall, “but Amano-sama insisted.”

A sharp reprimand stuck in his throat, halted by the unfamiliar servant trying to make himself as small as possible while still putting forward the meal tray Tora had sent. Such a transparent move really was pathetic; he would have expected better from his former student. Shin pressed his lips together, swallowing against an almost instinctive urge to snap at the hapless youth sent his way by his clearly too cocky for his own good former student. As head priest, Isshi made the rules by which all were expected to abide while at this shrine. Isshi made certain allowances for Shin and his _doragon_ ways, but the humans who served the shrine were not to be so casually chased off by Shin's foreign manners and volatile moods. He would not dishonor the ancient youkai who had done so much for him by behaving crudely towards a human whose name he didn't even know, one who was, after all, quite innocent in all of this.

“Thank you,” he forced himself to say, starting to get up only to watch, appalled as the young man mistook his words for an invitation. The slender human soon crossed the room, depositing the meal on Shin's work table before going to the shouji.

“N–.”

Too late, the human was already opening the shouji wide, stepping out onto the engawa to open the rain shutters there as well.

“Too fine a day,” the young man mumbled before busying himself gathering up Shin's neglected laundry. “Is there anything else Ue-sama needs?”

“Out. Right now,” he ground out with clenched jaws, hands fisting at his sides to keep from grabbing the boy and bodily _throwing_ him out. 

He closed his eyes to contain his glare, unable to miss the confused hesitation before the youth fled. Shin forced himself to count backwards from ten before closing himself up in his apartment again. He would eat, because to do otherwise now would be too rude, but after ... after he was going to have _words_ with Tora. And perhaps Isshi as well. He did not ask for so much that simple respect for his mourning should be seen as too hard to give him.

~*~*~

“I told you to let it be,” Isshi scolded sharply, frowning up at Tora.

“But –.”

“No. I told you to let him be,” he snarled. “Let. Him. Be.”

Tora growled back something less than complimentary in his curiously accented German before storming out of Isshi's office. Another proof of how strongly Tora felt. Isshi wondered if Shin even realized how much he was loved. Probably not.

Putting aside his unfinished sermon, Isshi set out for a leisurely stroll of the shrine complex grounds. What better way to see the state of things than to actually take a walk of the shrine? And if his wandering just _happened_ to take him by the poor youth who had so innocently incurred the foreign dragon's ire, well, that could hardly be helped. The boy could probably use a few words of encouragement about now anyway.

~*~*~

This time, Shin listened to his instincts and ignored the timid scratching at his door. This time it only came the once and then it was gone.

_Coward._

Shin metaphorically turned his back on the phantom of his mate's voice.

His mate. A cruel joke if ever there was one. Akiya didn't even have the decency to die, he just ... left. And yet every autumn, Shin could see his precious love in every maple leaf, as red as the _ryuu_ 's mane. He could still hear Akiya's laughter echoing in the halls, feel the warmth of his arms around him even when he was alone. The brush of absent lips, the warmth of a touch he would never feel again. His heart ached for his lost love, and it would not listen to the logical voice pointing out that Akiya's heart had clearly never felt the same, as easily as the dragon had left him. Sleep with, caress, tease, even whisper the words, but actually love?

_As if the kami, any of them, could ever truly accept and love someone like you, a foreigner._

Shin curled in on himself, a small knot of misery. Time had passed, that much was true, but nothing was better. He was only making things worse for everyone by remaining. He should do the honorable thing and just die. Who was left to miss him? His students? They would forget about him quickly enough. Even Isshi, as stubborn as he could be, would forget him in time. It would be better for everyone if he just wasn't here.

_Coward._

Shin glared at the sword in his hands, as if it had personally offended him by not killing him on its own.

And yet he still couldn't do it himself, either. Every year he went through these same thoughts. And every year he came to this same place, glaring at the sword that had been a gift from Akiya in their early years, unable to finish the job. He really was completely pathetic. The sword dropped from his hands with a muted clatter of steel against tatami. Useless.

One of the shouji panels rasped as it slid open, bringing the orange light of dusk with it. He blinked a few times, unable to move as he watched the young man from the other day silently mincing into his apartment with an armload of fresh bedding. Shin's thin smile wasn't enough to wipe the haze of fear from the young man's beautiful face, and that twisted at something in Shin's chest. One thing to strike fear in the enemy in the heat of battle, but to so terrify one of Isshi's humans, here in their very home ... that was wrong. Inexcusable. If he knew the words to make it better ... but he didn't, instead watching the young man flinch and avoid the dropped sword as if it were a venomous snake.

Shin still hadn't found the right words to make things better when the young servant fetched in the dinner tray. A low bow and he slipped out of the apartment, never once speaking a word. Another regret for Shin to carry in his heart, then. It was starting to get a bit crowded in there, but what could he do? Nothing, it seemed.

~*~*~

“I could help, you know.”

Tora glanced up, startled to see Aoi in his quarters.

“Aoi-san....”

“To be honest, I'm a little surprised you aren't taking a more ... _direct_ approach, really,” the incubus purred, tracing a finger along Tora's cheek. “How long have you wanted him and still nothing?”

“Not like that,” Tora muttered, jerking away from the demon's touch with a low growl. “I've never wanted him like _that_ , you sex-obsessed....”

“I _am_ an incubus, sweetheart,” Aoi teased, patting his cheek.

“So seduce him yourself,” Tora growled. “Leave me out of it.”

“Oh if only,” the incubus replied with another, more wistful, little chuckle, shaking his head.

“Are you suggesting there's someone in this world you _can't_ seduce?” Tora countered.

“Oh there's any number of beings who possess a, shall we say, _resistance_ to my charms,” Aoi admitted, taking a seat at Tora's table.

“And Shin-dono is one of them?”

“To be honest, I've never tried,” the incubus replied with a light shrug. “Akiya-sama and all. He loved him very much, you know.”

“Yes, I've had to live with him these last fifty years,” Tora grumbled. “Why do you think I've been trying to help him?”

“And you think if you throw enough pretty young things at him, sooner or later one of them will catch his attention? Really, Tora-kun. _Doragon_ mate for life. You aren't going to change that so easily.”

“Easily, right. Because anything about this has gone easily,” he muttered, wondering what it was going to take to get his uninvited guest to leave.

“You really are an idiot,” Aoi said, snorting.

But in the next instant, he was just gone. Tora had a bad feeling that meant Aoi was just going to make more trouble somewhere else, it was what his kind ultimately did, but what was he to do about it? Not like the demon had ever been one to listen to _him_ anyway.

A snarl of annoyance and Tora pulled on a heavy coat. Isshi was going to want to know about this.

~*~*~

A single candle still burned in the earth drake's apartment, a beacon tended in the vain hope that his mate would yet return to him. Fifty years was not so long in the grand scheme of things. And yet Shin felt every day of those fifty years like lead weights on his soul. He missed his mate with every breath, but even more so in the fall. Ironic, really, since Akiya had always been a child of spring. Akiya had hated the chill of autumn almost more than the deep cold of winter, pouting that the autumn sun was the crueler lie. At least winter, he would say, you knew to be cold. Autumn toyed with expectations, one day warm yet cloudy, the next cold yet bright, and always with the touch of death as the land transformed itself in preparation for winter's sleep.

“Is this going to be our lives from now on, old friend?”

Shin recoiled in surprise at the intrusion of Isshi's voice on his thoughts.

“Icchama....”

“If it is, then that is your choice, of course. I would never tell you what to feel,” the youkai priest said, conjuring a tea set with a small gesture. “Of course my preference would be to see you _happy_ , but if this misery is what you wish....”

“What I _wish_ is for my mate to return to me,” Shin growled, hands clenching into fists at his sides. “And yet you continue to do _nothing_.”

“Akiya-kun isn't coming back.”

“And whose fault is that?” he snarled, forcing himself to sit down rather than further attack the one who had given him sanctuary in this strange land, a land actively hostile to Shin's true nature as a foreign dragon.

“Ah my poor dear Shinpei,” Isshi sighed. “As much as I loved you both, my precious friend, Akiya always was more flighty than you wanted to believe. And, too, you always did hold too much too close to your chest. Surely you must know he never understood how deeply you loved him.”

Against his will, Shin felt his shoulders cave inwards, a heavy sigh escaping him. Isshi wasn't wrong, per se; Shin had always kept his true feelings closely guarded, even here. A lifetime of conditioning to mistrust those who were not his own kind. He had been more open, more honest with Akiya than anyone, and yet even there he had held back. Too much, it seemed, for as easily as his precious mate had simply abandoned him.

“How long do you mourn a lost lover who isn't actually dead?” Shin mumbled, covering his face with his hands in a vain effort to hide his tears. A useless gesture that did nothing to ease the pain nor the cold ache of loneliness that filled his chest.

“As long as it takes,” Isshi murmured, moving to sit beside him and tuck an arm around his shoulders. “Until your heart is ready to love again.”

“I will never love again,” Shin muttered.

For once, his friend didn't argue.

~*~*~

Time passed, the seasons turned in their regular cycle. Nights grew longer still, then the wheel turned and the sun started its slow progression back. Winter gave way to spring, spring made way for summer, and in time the maples of the shrine were clad in red once more. 

Shin took a deep breath of the cool autumn air, then closed the rain shutters before retreating back into his apartment. Another year had passed and yet nothing had changed. He was still alone, his mate was still lost to him, and that pain still ached in his chest. He was tired of it. Maybe this year would be different? Maybe this year he would finally end it.

~*~*~

It wasn't like Ibuki had been paying all that much attention. The autumn cleaning cycle was entirely routine for him at this point: open a set of guest quarters, sweep the floors, close the quarters again. Few of the rooms in this part of the shrine were even in use this season, he hadn't thought to keep count. He should have, of course, so he could be sure to skip Shin-sama's apartment in accordance with the master's wishes.

Then again, if he had....

Ibuki rushed forward, calling out to Hikaru before falling to his knees at the master's side. He couldn't tell from where the blood was coming, only that it was everywhere, including soaking into Shin's kimono.

“Ibu– holy shit, oh gods, I'll go get someone!” Hikaru babbled, disappearing quickly.

Not sure what else to do, Ibuki hurriedly pulled open the scholar's kimono, whimpering when he saw the deep bleeding gash to the man's belly. Surely he was too late to actually save his life. As Shin had no doubt intended, the way he had closed up his apartment. Everything about the state of Shin's quarters said the man had fully intended for no one to notice until it was too late to do anything to change things.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled without understanding why.

“It will be all right, little one,” the shrine's senior priest said, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Dragons cannot be killed this way.”

“D-dragon?” Ibuki stammered. Surely he hadn't heard that right.

“Dragon,” the priest repeated with a small smile. “Depressed, yes, but still a dragon. Go on, fetch me some hot water, ne? And maybe some rice and miso? But don't take too long; I may need you.”

“Y-yes, sir,” he said, jumping to his feet only to wobble in place and nearly collapse. His vision swam, someone catching him, and then that someone, the priest probably, gently lowered him to the floor away from the puddle of blood. 

“On second thought,” Isshi murmured, gently petting Ibuki's hair, “how about we get Hikaru-kun to do that? You just sit here and breathe awhile.”

“But ... but what about Shin-sama?”

“Shin-kun will be fine. As I said, dragons cannot die this way.”

Ibuki didn't understand, blinking a few times as he tried to focus on the bloody body still sprawled out on the floor. Nothing made sense. Maybe he was hallucinating? Maybe he was still in bed and this was all just a horrible nightmare? A strange dream, to be sure – he hadn't seen or spoken to the scholar in almost a year. But a dream made so much more sense than dragons being real.

“The dizziness will pass faster if you close your eyes,” Isshi suggested. “Trust me.”

Ibuki wanted to say he wasn't dizzy when the words froze in his throat. The blood ... the blood was moving backwards, almost as if it was being sucked back into the body. Which was plainly impossible, meaning this _had_ to be some sort of dream.

“Close your eyes,” Isshi said, an order this time.

“Yes, Master,” Ibuki mumbled, shivering as he snapped his eyes shut. A dream, this had to be a dream. It was the only possible explanation, this was all nothing but a dream.

~*~*~

Shin was annoyed to discover the afterlife smelled like a used animal barn, dry and cold. Cracking open an eye, two things struck him immediately: one, he was in his natural drake form, and two, he was not alone. Drawing in a deep breath, he could taste both a human and Isshi in the air, the latter carrying the faint scent of temple incense around him. So. Not the afterlife. How ... disappointing.

“Issama, I ... I think he's awake?” the little human, curled against his hindquarters, said.

“You see? As I told you,” Isshi said from somewhere beyond Shin's current field of vision. “ _Doragon_ are far too stubborn to die so easily.”

Shin huffed and tried to lift his head, only to have his vision go fuzzy. His head dropped back to the barn floor, a puff of old hay dust assaulting his nostrils. He took another deep breath before indulging in a jaw-cracking yawn. Hay, dust, incense, the human, Isshi ... but no animals, not for awhile.

“You emptied the barn for me?” he rumbled.

“We didn't have much choice,” Isshi replied, chuckling as he came around to pat Shin's shoulder. “Not even the goats wanted to stay in here with you like this.”

“I wouldn't have eaten any of them,” he mumbled, feeling entirely too self-conscious of his voice just then, the way it echoed and rumbled in his barrel chest.

“Of course, but they don't understand that, my dear friend,” Isshi said, rubbing at a particularly dry spot on Shin's shoulder. “Still, if you could take human form again now, it would be appreciated.”

“... I should be dead now. What did you do?”

“Healed you. Well, somewhat healed you,” Isshi said. “I had some help.”

Shin tried to scowl at his friend, but as usual, it wasn't having much effect.

“ _You didn't really think that method was going to work, did you_?” Isshi asked in softly voiced German. 

“ _It should have_ ,” he grumbled, wings rustling as he flinched away from the youkai's words. “ _Could have_.”

“ _Such is not the way to kill a drake. And no, I will not tell you how to_ actually _kill yourself_.”

Shin snorted and closed his eyes. The barn was drafty, smelled like animals, and he was hungry. The fastest way of fixing these problems was to retake human form, and yet doing so nearly drained him completely. He wavered where he stood, then his legs gave out. And yet it wasn't Isshi who caught him.

“It's all right, Master,” the human whose name he still didn't even know murmured. “We'll take care of you.”

He probably ought to have been saying something, but his tongue felt too heavy and nothing came out. Darkness closed over him again as he wondered what his failure to die was going to cost him.

~*~*~

When next Shin woke, he was in a completely dark room. Closing his eyes again, he forced himself to take slow, deep breaths and just _feel_ the space around him. His apartment, his bed, but no candles had burned in this space in days. Also, the little human from the barn was sprawled out asleep beside him. How curious. Another deep breath and Shin sat up, careful not to jostle his unexpected companion. Asleep, the young man looked even more fragile, delicate. Why was he here? And in his bed with him, no less? For that matter, how long had Shin been asleep that Akiya's candle had not only gone out, but not been replaced in so many days that he couldn't even smell a last trace of it?

The brush of a hand to his arm startled him almost as much as the soft voice.

“Shin-sama? Did you need something?”

“Answers,” he said softly. “But I doubt you would have them. Go back to sleep.”

“Shin-sama should sleep, too,” his companion mumbled, yawning. “Still night.”

Such an innocent comment. Shin watched as the young man rolled onto his side, tucking his hands under his head. Akiya had slept that way, too. Shin's heart twinged and he pushed himself up out of bed. He would just go down to the kitchen for some tea, let the boy sleep undisturbed. And get a fresh candle or two.

A reasonable plan that fell to pieces as soon as Shin took his first step. Or rather, tried to take his first step, only to fall flat on his face. He groaned, his pride stinging worse than his body. Nor did it feel any better for how quickly the young human was at his side, helping him to sit up properly.

“Shin-sama should not be getting out of bed,” his companion mumbled. “If you need something, please ask and I will fetch it. Shin-sama is not well.”

“Is that why you are here then?” he asked.

“Yes, Issama assigned me as your attendant, until you are well again,” the young man said with a short bow. 

Shin swallowed back an urge to sigh; his pride might not like it, but his body was clearly still recovering from what he had done ... and whatever Isshi had done to fix it.

“Very well. Help me into the next room so you can get back to sleep.”

“If you are awake, I am to stay awake with you,” his attendant said, shaking his head even as he helped Shin to his feet.

Shin couldn't completely hold back a low snort at that, but to his credit, his appointed nurse didn't flinch. Almost impressive, really. A human who had seen his true form and yet was not terrified by him. Was that why Isshi had assigned this boy to be his caretaker?

“What should I call you?” he asked when he was finally seated again.

“Shin-sama may call me whatever Shin-sama wishes,” the youth demurred and for a moment Shin could almost swear a blush was painted across the boy's pretty features. “But my given name is Ibuki.”

“Ibuki. It's a good name. You should wear it with pride, Ibuki-kun.”

His companion didn't say anything else, slowly moving through the darkened room in search of something. Shin's lips twitched into a small smile as he watched the young man struggle to strike a match.

“Here, let me,” he murmured before sending a thin tendril of fire into the nearest lantern's wick.

Ibuki startled with a yelp at the sudden light, pressing a hand to his chest.

“H-how ... how did you...?”

“ _Doragon_ , remember?” Shin replied, unable to completely hold back his amusement, though it only lasted a moment. “There should be a candle burning in that window. Why isn't there?”

“I ... I don't ... I think it was out when I found you, Shin-sama,” the young man stammered. “I don't remember seeing one. A-and then Issama came and ... it's been a couple weeks now since that afternoon.”

Weeks. The beacon he had set for his mate had been out for weeks. No wonder his heart felt so heavy. How was his mate supposed to return to him now? Shin closed his eyes, determined not to show any more weakness before this boy. Isshi was wrong; he could have, _would_ have died if this Ibuki hadn't found him when he did. If the boy had done as he had been told and left him to his seclusion, this wouldn't be the situation now. Anger flared in his chest, albeit weakly. He would be dead now, as he had wanted, if not for the meddling of a foolish boy and an arrogant priest.

“... Master?” the boy asked, almost a whimper.

“Tea,” he croaked, his eyes still closed lest his anger seek outlet upon the boy.

Tora was the more proper target for his anger. Tora and Isshi both.

~*~*~

_“Cold, cold, cold! Mou, Shinpei, it's too cold!!”_

_“And whose brilliant idea was it to go hiking up the mountain in this weather without proper layers?” he scolded, though he couldn't help a small grin._

_“Oh shut up and just start a fire already!”_

_Shin laughed, directing fire into the hearth even as he pulled Akiya into his arms. Akiya's weak protests were all for show, soon forgotten as Shin pressed a loving kiss to his mate's lips. One kiss was soon another and then another. Shin pulled Akiya with him, away from the hearth and towards the bedroom. Akiya giggled as he stumbled into bed with him, sweet kisses eagerly becoming something more._

_“I love you,” Shin murmured, nibbling at his mate's shoulder._

_“Mm, love you, too,” Akiya hummed, happily snuggling into Shin's chest. “Don't ever leave.”_

_“Never going to happen,” Shin agreed, nuzzling black strands. “Not ever.”_

_After a lifetime of always feeling alone, always feeling different, finally he had found peace. Comfort. Understanding. Nothing could make him leave this._

~*~*~

Shin awoke with a jerk, even more startled to feel a warm body pressed against his chest. For a fleeting moment, his mind tried to tell him Akiya was back in his arms. And then his nose caught the soft scent of the human set as his nurse. Ibuki, not his mate. Familiar longing ached in his chest and he carefully extracted himself before rolling over away from him. Why his nurse insisted on sleeping in his bed, he didn't know. He had told the youth, repeatedly, that it was not necessary and still he woke each morning to find Ibuki either in his bed or watching over him. After more than fifty years of solitude, it was ... disturbing to think he had not slept alone in over a month. Stranger still, a part of him was growing accustomed to it again.

_No, this is wrong. This is completely wrong._

Shivering, Shin closed his eyes again. His grief was already hard enough, the dreams were making everything worse. So vivid he could taste Akiya's skin at the back of his throat, hear the echo of his mate's sweet laughter in his ears. This was complete torment.

The dreams were a product of his nurse's insistence on sharing his bed, Shin was certain of it. If the only way to make them stop was to make Ibuki leave him, then he was going to have to make that happen. Healing while awake was taking entirely too long, it was time to invoke the sleep cure. Rolling onto his back, Shin took a deep breath and started the count backwards into a proper healing trance.

~*~*~

Ibuki woke just before dawn, shivering with cold. Rolling over, he yelped for how close Shin was. And yet there was no response. Sitting up, he gently touched Shin's shoulder. Still nothing. Worse, Shin was cold to the touch. Ibuki gulped, blinking back unexpected tears as he held a trembling hand over the dragon's mouth and nose. He wasn't breathing. Ibuki shook Shin's shoulders, but of course it was useless. He shuddered and pulled back, pressing a hand to his lips to keep from vomiting. Dead. His master was dead, had been for hours for as cold as he was. Ibuki was a failure.

“Deep breaths, Ibuki-kun. It is going to be all right.”

Another undignified yelp. When had Isshi gotten there?

“Breathe,” the priest scolded. “He isn't dead; your panic does nothing to help him. Breathe.”

“But ... but he's stone cold,” Ibuki stammered.

“Tends to happen to _doragon_ in a healing trance,” Isshi said with a little nod and a patient smile, as if this was something that happened all the time. “Go set a fire while I move him, then fetch us some tea and breakfast. We'll need to watch over him and I suspect this could take all day. Despite what I'm sure he thinks, he will still need you when he rouses.”

Ibuki didn't really understand any of that, but as a lowly acolyte, he also wasn't about to argue or ask impertinent questions. The head priest might look only forty, but appearances could be deceiving.

To Ibuki's surprise, Isshi stayed with him all morning, quietly and patiently lecturing on youkai and the true nature of the shrine complex that they called home. He would not have considered himself someone worthy of such teachings, although now that he was hearing them, he was quite fascinated. And, too, there was something almost hypnotic about the older man's voice. Before he quite realized it, midday had arrived, as had Hikaru and lunch.

“I have other matters to attend this afternoon, Ibuki-kun, but if you run into any trouble, I'll be back.”

“I ... but how will you know?”

“I'll know,” Isshi replied, grinning. “Did you think I was teaching you about youkai just to pass the time?”

“I –,” he started, but before he could finish pulling together a coherent response, Isshi patted his cheek and then he was just ... gone. 

Youkai. The senior priest was himself some sort of youkai, it was the only possible explanation. Suddenly Ibuki's entire life felt quite different.

~*~*~

Despite what Isshi had said, it was barely mid-afternoon when Shin abruptly gasped and sat up. Ibuki hurried to his feet, startled when Shin stood unassisted.

“You may go,” Shin said, each word calm, even cold.

“But....”

“You may go,” the drake repeated.

“Is there an–.”

“Leave me!”

Ibuki recoiled from the drake's unexpected ire, bowing low as he tried to make himself as small and submissive as possible. He didn't know what he could have done to so enrage the man, quickly shuffling out into the hall. He shivered, a weakness stealing through his limbs, but he pushed onwards.

Leaning heavily against the wall, he trudged forward no more than half a dozen paces before his knees wobbled and sent him crashing to the floor. Something ... something was very wrong. His chest felt tight. Like he couldn't get a full breath, and when he tried to push himself back to his feet, he swooned and fell on his face. Whimpering, he somehow managed to pull his limbs in against his body. Was that footsteps he was hearing or just the thudding of his heart in his ears?

“Ibuki-kun?”

Shin. After the drake's forceful rejection of him not five minutes ago, Shin's presence at Ibuki's side was completely unexpected. And confusing. Why was he here? What could have even brought him out here?

“Ibuki-kun, what happened, what is wrong?”

“I ... I don't,” he gasped, panic vibrating in his chest. And yet somehow it was enough for Shin to piece together what was wrong, the drake settling and drawing Ibuki into his arms.

“Shh, easy now,” Shin murmured, stroking his hair as he held him close. “Just breathe with me, Ibuki-kun, that's it, nice and easy.”

Ibuki closed his eyes and let himself sag against Shin's chest, breathing according to the drake's directions. He couldn't understand any of this, but somehow being held by the drake made everything feel better. Like nothing could hurt him as long as Shin was around. The sort of safety he didn't feel around anyone else.

“Better?” Shin asked after a few moments of blissful silence. Ibuki stifled an urge to sigh; he didn't belong to Shin, not like this. It was time he went back to his old life.

“Sorry for being such a burden to you, Master,” Ibuki mumbled, inwardly struggling against his sudden disinclination to move.

“Ibuki-kun.”

Right. Shin had already made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with Ibuki. Prolonging his own leaving like this was useless. The dignified thing to do would be to get up and leave. Go back to the student dorm and try to forget he had ever harbored thoughts about the man. Dragon. Whatever. Ibuki was a no one, a hopelessly ignorant farm boy completely unworthy of someone like Shin. This was ridiculous, how much more pathetic could he really get?

“Sorry to have been so much trouble, Sensei,” he said as he got to his feet, bowing yet again before continuing down the hall.

Ibuki was just about to step down into the yard when the weakness hit him again. This time, instead of risking another fall, he sat on the engawa and closed his eyes. It wasn't as bad this time, though he still felt like he couldn't draw a full breath. If only he could understand why this was happening.

Footsteps approached, but he ignored them. His breathing was getting easier, his heart no longer racing in his ears. Ibuki managed a full, deep breath. Rising to his feet, he was surprised to find the dizziness was gone. And then a hand abruptly closed around his elbow.

“Ibuki-kun.”

“Sh-shin-sama,” he stammered, his mind a complete blank.

“How long were you my nurse?” the drake asked.

“Do ... do you mean...? It, um, it has been, um, twenty-six days since ... since....”

He couldn't actually bring himself to say since he had broken Shin's rules and found the drake's bloody body, but Shin seemed to understand, nodding briefly.

“Thank you again for your service and sacrifice,” Shin murmured, leaning up to brush a kiss to Ibuki's forehead. “Your services are no longer required. Go and be at peace.”

Strange words. Something in Ibuki's chest snapped, and for a moment the world felt tilted, completely out of alignment. Then the moment passed and he was alone. Shivering, he took a wary step outside. Nothing. No weakness, no tightness in his chest. Shaking his head, he pushed the whole incident out of his mind. Whatever had happened, as long as it stayed gone, what did it matter? Time to get back to his old life, to forget about Shin entirely. If he could. 

Ibuki glanced back over his shoulder, but the passageway was empty. Of course it was. Shivering, Ibuki again told himself to put the whole matter out of his mind. It was over, done. Time to move on.

~*~*~

Twenty-six days. Shin glanced around his apartment once more. Everything was as it should be, neat and orderly. There was nothing else he could do; this was the only honorable way forward. Life for the sake of living was meaningless. He had been a fool to listen to Isshi for as long as he had, to waste time and energy on trying to heal what could never be unbroken. His mate was lost to him. What purpose did his life still serve?

“Senpai always has been impressively stubborn.”

“Aoi. Don't you need my permission to be here?” he demanded.

“See, you're holding that sword right now, but you don't actually want to die,” the incubus said, causally crossing the room. Before he could think to stop him, Aoi snatched the sword out of his hands.

“What –?”

“Too easy, senpai,” Aoi said, tossing the sword aside as if it were nothing more than a toy. “This isn't what you want. You don't want to die. Why do you think I'm here?”

“The arrogant presumption that you know me at all?” Shin muttered.

“If I don't know you, whose fault is that?” Aoi countered with a frown. “Call me selfish if you like, but I'm not interested in watching you die.”

“Then leave,” he growled, turning his back on the demon. “You aren't welcome.”

Too late Shin realized his mistake as the demon came up behind him, wrapping arms around him in such a way as to trap Shin's arms against his sides.

“No,” Aoi insisted, breath warm against his neck. “You have made being miserable into an art, albeit a thoroughly distasteful one. It's shameful.”

Shin snarled, but it was already too late. He could feel Aoi's fangs sinking into his neck before he was able to finish casting the banishing spell. Shin shivered, his own magic turning in on itself to use the gathered energy to combat Aoi's venom. He could feel the lust within him and he clenched his jaw, refusing to give in to what the demon wanted.

“Utterly detestable,” Aoi muttered, sliding a hand into Shin's kimono. “You deserve happiness as much as anyone, senpai. Maybe more.”

“This? This has nothing to do with my happiness,” he muttered, trying again to physically pull free of clinging arms. That it actually worked worried him.

“Maybe. Maybe I just wanted to see if it was even possible,” Aoi conceded before walking over to the discarded sword and picking it up. “Maybe the problem isn't what you think. Why would a _doragon_ like you, unable to be with your own kind, label a _ryuu_ as your mate in the first place? Isn't the point of a mate to have children?”

“ _Doragon_ mate for life, whether the pairing produces offspring or not is –.”

The magical energy in the room spiked and the rest of Shin's words died in his throat as the sword, a gift from Akiya, abruptly shattered, taking his heart with it. Never would he have expected Aoi to do something so heartless, so completely cruel; until this moment, he hadn't thought the incubus even had the power to use magic in that way. Shin fell to his knees, his vision blurring with tears. Footsteps approached and then Aoi was bent over him.

“An immortal cannot mate for life, it's a contradiction in terms.”

Fingers brushed against wet cheeks, but Shin barely noticed. The last piece of Akiya had just been taken from him. He was lost.

~*~*~

Shin lost track of all sense of time in the gathering darkness, hunched in on himself and immersed in his grief. Maybe it was a couple of hours, maybe it was only a few minutes, he didn't know. To his surprise, not only was he not alone, Aoi was still there with him, holding him. Anger surged through him, he jerked away from the demon with a guttural snarl.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?!”

“How heartless do you think I am?” Aoi countered, breaching the distance between them to brush fingers against Shin's cheek.

“I don't think you want me to answer that,” he growled, twitching as he got to his feet and retreated even further. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now?”

“Do you even know how?” Aoi challenged as he got to his feet.

“Biting the head off always seems to work,” Shin said, struggling against his own anger. The fire within him was almost howling with the urge to turn Aoi to ash and yet Shin didn't dare let it.

“Fine. But Tora isn't going to stop so easily, you know,” Aoi said, crossing his arms over his chest but not moving any closer. “The idiot loves you, and he's not the only one. Even if you never take another person into your bed ... fifty years, senpai. Akiya isn't coming back. You need to move on; let go.”

Another snarl, Shin turned his back on the incubus. He was tired of those words, tired of the assumptions that always lurked behind them.

“I can help you, you know,” the demon murmured, stepping up behind Shin to slide his arms around his waist, resting his chin on Shin's shoulder.

“How, by clouding my mind with your poison? Tricking me into wanting you?” he grumbled. And yet when Shin tried to step away again, Aoi's arms tightened around him, holding him in place this time.

“I can help you forget.”

“For how long? A few minutes of base pleasure?” Shin asked, snorting.

“A few minutes? Really, senpai, you wound me,” Aoi countered. “I'm sure I could clear your mind for _at least_ an hour, maybe longer.”

“Aoi....”

“All right, all right, I don't know how completely, you're my first _doragon_ , ne?”

“I don't _want_ to forget,” Shin muttered.

“Senpai,” Aoi said, sighing. “You need to let go, yeah?”

“Not this way,” he grumbled.

Tired of the demon's clinging, he closed his eyes and willed himself somewhere, anywhere else. When he opened his eyes again, he couldn't help a bitter smile at the waterfall in front of him. This had been a favorite place of Akiya's and for a moment he could have sworn he could hear his mate's laughter beyond the wall of water. So many times the two of them had come here in search of privacy, a haven away from prying eyes for them alone.

Too late, Shin realized his mistake, the waterfall's flow parting like stage curtains ahead of two young dragons. Mitsuki and Takemasa noticed him at the same time, their laughter suddenly cut short.

“Shin-sama....”

“We, um, we were just,” Takemasa stammered, the two dragons wearing matching guilty looks.

“It's fine,” he said, waving off their attempts at apologies. “You don't owe me any explanations, Takemasa-san, Mitsuki-san. The grounds are as much your home as they are mine.”

“It, um, it'll be full dark soon, so ... be careful coming back?” Mitsuki said, bowing awkwardly before Takemasa finally succeeded in pulling him away. 

Shin sighed, briefly wondering if it was even worth the effort to correct the red dragon's misconceptions. Probably not.

“Everywhere I turn, I still see you,” he murmured to the night air, useless as it was. “He's so much like you, complete with a green dragon who loves him without reservation. If only you could have had his same dogged loyalty to anyone more than yourself.”

“Shin.”

Isshi. Again. Shin glanced back at the ancient priest, trying to be surprised. It wasn't working.

“Always running, old friend,” Isshi murmured, stepping up beside him but not actually breaching his personal space. “For as long as I have known you, you have been running away from something, always hiding.”

“Isshi....”

“I've tried to let you deal with this yourself, but maybe that was a mistake.”

“You should have let me die,” he muttered, turning his back on the ancient youkai.

A flickering and Isshi was standing in front of him again, hands still tucked into opposite sleeves.

“You don't even know how. And you insult everyone who cares for you by suggesting I should let you,” the priest replied, a mild rebuke in his tone. “Who is there to take your place if you leave?”

“Nothing I do for you couldn't easily be done by another.”

“Not true,” Isshi said, the coldness retreating as the youkai stepped closer, dared to cup Shin's cheek. “Not true, Shinpei. No one else has your perspective, my precious friend.”

“I-Isshi,” he stammered, stepping back.

“You are much loved, as a friend, a teacher, a mentor. Are those not also reasons to live?”

Shin turned his back on the youkai again, though he lacked confidence that it would do much good. And he was right, Isshi simply appearing in front of him again.

“Does the love of everyone else mean so little to you?”

“Every day, I lose another piece of him. This ... this was _our_ place, someplace only we knew, or so I thought. Now even that has been taken from me. When even the memories fade, what will be left?”

“The you who exists separate from Akiya, the you that you have forgotten in this selfish, self-indulgent despair of yours.”

“Selfish?!”

“Yes, selfish!” Isshi snapped. “You are not the only one who feels betrayed by him. You are not the only one to whom he made promises and then broke them. The difference is that I have learned to let go.”

“You all think you –.”

Isshi raised his hand and Shin's voice froze, his throat closing on the rest of his words. He could _feel_ Isshi's magic forcing him to comply while his own, curiously, did nothing. It was unsettling.

“I will _never_ forgive him for his callous betrayals of us both, Shinpei,” Isshi said, suddenly standing so close Shin could almost feel his breath on his skin. “You cannot spend the rest of your life stuck in this moment, this hurt. I refuse to allow it any longer. Find your own way out of this, or I _will_ give Aoi the means to finish what he started.”

A surprisingly cold finger pressed to his lips, though the youkai's magic was still preventing him from speaking.

“Can you do this? _Will_ you do this? Or do you want him to help you right now?”

The magic relaxed just enough that Shin finally managed to suck in an exasperated breath, scowling at the youkai priest.

“I am not an errant child you can order about so casually.”

“No, you are not. Neither am I your parent. What I _am_ is your friend,” Isshi murmured, his fingers brushing lightly against Shin's cheek. “He's right, you deserve better than this self-imposed misery. So I ask again: can you find it on your own, or do we need to force the issue?”

Rearing back, Shin released his human form and took to the air. A few strokes of his wings and Isshi was just another small dot far, far below.

_You cannot outrun the truth forever._

Ignoring that little voice in his head, Shin turned towards the north. Maybe it was time he took another hard look at his options. Perhaps ... perhaps it was time for him to leave. This place and these people had been home for so long now, but none of them were his kind. Perhaps it was time he went back home.

~*~*~

Descending into the yard behind Shin's apartment, in the full darkness of night, required an act of careful magic, an exchange of wings for human flesh at just the right moment to neither damage the yard nor hurt himself. Of course after so many centuries, Shin was rather adept at the maneuver and within moments he was walking up the gravel path towards his apartment. And then he stopped short, poised on the very edge of the engawa. A light glowed in his apartment. A lamp, sat in the same window where he had kept a candle burning for Akiya's return for decades. If it was just coincidence, it was too much of one. Closing his eyes, he focused his will as he stepped backwards, away from the building. With a silent apology for the damage his drake form was likely doing to the yard, he pulled in great lungfuls of air and tasted each one. Faded traces of Aoi and Isshi, but it was Ibuki in his apartment at the moment.

Shin was still sitting there, dumbfounded, when the young man suddenly threw open the shouji. Somehow Ibuki looked just as surprised as he felt.

“Shin-sama ... it worked. You came back....”

Ibuki was already running towards him, heedless of his own bare feet in his rush to practically fling himself at Shin. It was an entirely unexpected reaction, counter to everything Shin had ever experienced. Any time before this, if someone had been running _towards_ him in his drake form, it had been with a weapon raised and murderous intentions. But this ... he could taste the salt of Ibuki's tears as the young man tried to ... hug his shoulder?

“Ibuki-kun....”

“I-Issama s-said it ... it might not work. He ... he said y-you ... you were hurting t-too much,” the young man said between heaving sobs. “H-he ... he said you might ne-never come back.”

“Such tears for one like me?” he asked in a gentle rumble, confused. “You don't even know me; you aren't even one of my students.”

Ibuki didn't say anything, but his silence said plenty. Shin carefully lowered his snout into shaggy black hair, inhaling the young man's scent. He couldn't taste any hint of tampering by either Aoi or Isshi, and that was even more shocking. Humans who saw his drake form did not react like this!

“You don't even know me, Ibuki-kun,” he repeated, but still there was only silence. 

“It's late, you should be in bed asleep.”

“I ... I was just about to,” Ibuki mumbled. “I just ... had to check one last time.”

Well that was a pathetic lie if ever Shin had heard one. Unless the little human had meant he had been intending on sleeping in Shin's bed? Which was, of course, completely ridiculous, but then ten minutes ago Shin would have said the mere idea of a human crying over him possibly never coming back would be equally ridiculous. Apparently tonight was a night for surprises.

“You should go, little one,” he murmured, pulling his head back. “Take the lamp.”

“But....”

“Go,” he said again, a gentle insistence.

“You ... you won't leave again, will you?”

“Not tonight, little one,” he murmured. It was the best he could do.

“All right. Good night, Shin-sama,” Ibuki said, managing an only slightly awkward hug of his right forequarter before scurrying back inside.

A stunned Shin was still sitting in the yard, his green drake form taking up entirely too much space, when Isshi found him.

“Are you _trying_ to make yourself sick, old friend?”

“What did you do to him?” he grumbled, though he already knew the answer.

“To ... Ibuki-kun? Nothing. Come inside if you want to talk, yes?” Isshi said, patting his shoulder as he circled around him. 

Shin was feeling rather disinclined to obey, but a gust of wind, filled with crunchy red leaves, certainly made for a pointed reminder that winter was nearly upon them. A deep sigh and he retook human form, then followed Isshi into his apartment.

“So ... you came back.”

“You've known _that_ for hours. What do you really want?” Shin grumbled, using his magic to make their tea.

“Are you staying then? Or are you going to break that boy's heart, to say nothing of my own?”

“Isshi....”

“How long have we been friends, Shinpei? Five hundred years? Six? Do you really think that's something I can just shrug off so easily? Can you?”

Shin didn't know how to respond to that, silently pouring their tea. A moment and Isshi caught his hand.

“If you run again, nothing will change,” the youkai murmured. “If you stay ... Shinpei, you aren't alone.”

Shin huffed, but he couldn't find the words to argue. Or even the strength to pull back his hand.

“I need sleep,” he said instead.

“Tea first. You'll sleep better for being warmed.”

A snort this time, but still Shin found himself offering no arguments. Isshi wasn't wrong, though given that the youkai wasn't leaving, Shin suspected he had another reason for his suggestion, even if he wasn't sure what it could be. When Isshi persisted in staying, even to following him into his bedroom, he actually dared to give his friend a dirty look.

“I don't need to be tucked in like a child,” he muttered.

“Do I need to prove to you how much I don't see you that way?” the youkai asked, laughing.

“Isshi!”

“Shinpei. You are not above the need for physical comfort from time to time, dear friend,” Isshi scolded, a gentleness in his tone Shin was unused to hearing directed at him. “Nothing untoward, just a friend offering another friend comfort. And body heat in this chill late autumn weather. I won't even point out that body heat is best shared bare skin to bare skin.”

“I think you just _did_ ,” Shin drawled, shaking his head and sighing. “Fine, but the first time I feel a hand of yours wandering where it hasn't been invited....”

“Absolutely not my intention,” his friend replied with a small smile, holding up his hands a moment before reaching for Shin's obi.

“I can undress myself just fine, you old pervert,” he protested, though even he could admit he was more tired than annoyed at this point.

“Just trying to help,” Isshi replied, laughing. Shin rolled his eyes, then turned his back on the youkai to undress. It was a strange feeling, going through his nightly rituals while not being alone. That Isshi didn't comment any further the entire time, instead silently helping, somehow made it stranger.

Darkness swallowed the small apartment as Shin put out the last light. And still Isshi said nothing, holding open the duvet in unspoken invitation. Shin hesitated, tempted to go fetch another set, but even in darkness he could feel Isshi watching him, waiting for him. Smothering a sigh, he laid down beside his friend, rolling onto his side with his back to Isshi. Without a word, the youkai let the duvet drop over the both. Shin just hoped he fell asleep quickly. And that he was allowed to sleep without dreams.

~*~*~

Red and burnished yellows in every direction, the wheel of the year had cycled around to autumn yet again. Laughter echoed between the buildings, the two youngest of the shrine's guardian dragons chasing each other through the fallen leaves. Shin closed the heavy storm shutters, but they did little to block the sound. Fifty-three years now and still he wasn't used to it, not really.

Turning back around, he was startled to see Ibuki standing at his door, an oversized bundle of fresh bedding in his arms. The bundle nearly obscured his face completely, though something about the way he stood made Shin think that had been intentional.

“S-sorry, sensei. I was told to bring these for you.”

Shin watched as Ibuki, obviously nervous, made his careful way to the bedroom. The young man still wasn't one of Shin's students, they had seen little of each other since that night. Until this moment, Shin hadn't thought much of it; few who came to this shrine ever had much need to speak with him. Pilgrims didn't know of his existence and at the school he was the elusive master of arcane esoterica, one whose special knowledge would not be useful or needed by most students.

“Are you ... I ... they said I should just give up, that you don't take _wakashu_ ,” Ibuki mumbled, standing beside the sunken hearth with his head bowed. “I know I've gotten almost too old to ... to be anyone's now anyway, but I just ... I just....”

Shin tilted his head slightly as he watched the way Ibuki practically twitched with nerves. He was familiar with the practice, court officials and senior samurai taking on a younger boy as an apprentice, training him until he was grown into a young adult. But it was his understanding that such boys were chosen at much younger ages than Ibuki. And released at no older than twenty-five, an age that had to be nearly Ibuki's own. More than that, it was a human practice, one of the world outside the shrine, and not one practiced here, to Shin's knowledge. Granted, he wasn't always the most attentive of the other dragons. Had something changed?

“Ibuki-kun....”

“It's ... they were right. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything,” the young man mumbled, bobbing in place for a bit before scurrying towards the door,

“Ibuki-kun, wait,” Shin said, reaching for Ibuki but stopping short of actually touching him. To his surprise, Ibuki actually stopped, though he kept his back to him.

“Ibuki-kun, what brought this on?” he asked.

A moment and Ibuki's shoulders caved inwards as the young man mumbled his response: “I don't want to find your lifeless body a third time, Shin-sama. I ... I don't think I could bear it. But I couldn't think of any other way....”

“Ibuki-kun, I don't –,” he started, but even as he reached out for the young man, Ibuki choked on a sob and ran off down the hall.

“You really are horrible at this, senpai.”

“Aoi,” he growled, not bothering to turn around, not yet anyway.

“He loves you, senpai, and you keep rejecting him like he's nothing, worthless. I'd be surprised if he doesn't leave this time.”

“... if he does, it's his choice,” Shin muttered, turning and pushing past Aoi.

If he slid the door shut a bit more forcefully than necessary, it was Aoi's fault for being so irritating. At least this time the incubus took the hint and left him alone.

~*~*~

Shin sat in peaceful meditation, listening to the sound of the rain in the trees. The door to his apartment quietly slid open, but he didn't open his eyes. Another of Isshi's humans, he didn't recognize the faint scent of this one, but it didn't matter. At least he (or she? He couldn't tell that, either) knew to do his (or her) work quietly, collecting the laundry and leaving without a word.

The rain stopped and Shin stepped out onto the engawa with his pipe, unsurprised to find Isshi there, obviously waiting for him. They didn't say anything to each other at first, enjoying a quiet smoke in the cool autumn air. To an outside observer, it probably looked like everything was the same as always between them. And yet even in his human form Shin could tell there was something more on his friend's mind. Still, Isshi had come to him. The youkai could start this conversation himself.

“He asked to be sent home,” Isshi said at length. When Shin said nothing, Isshi sighed before he continued: “I told him if he felt the same in the spring, then he could go.”

“Will you?”

“I don't break my promises,” Isshi said as he got to his feet.

For a moment, Shin thought the youkai might leave on those words. When he didn't, the dragon huffed a sigh, putting out his own pipe. Perhaps not unreasonable to meet his friend at least somewhat halfway on this point.

“He wants something I can't give him. And Tora-kun ... Tora-kun needs to stop trying to make me something I am not,” he murmured, gazing out onto the garden. The silence between them grew and then Isshi nodded.

“I'll deal with Tora-kun,” the youkai priest said at last.

“Thank you,” Shin murmured, watching Isshi walk away for a moment before going back to his desk and the work that still waited for him.

~*~*~

Isshi waited for the evening meal before drawing Tora aside.

“I know I've said this before,” he said, “but I need you to stop.”

“Stop?”

“Stop pushing people at Shin-kun,” the priest said, guiding his friend around the edge of the dining hall, towards his own table.

“I'm trying to help him,” the young headmaster muttered, practically glaring at him. “Why does it feel like I'm the only one?”

“Why do you feel he needs your help? And why do you keep throwing young men at him? How is that helping him?” Isshi asked instead.

“ _Doragon_ live for centuries. The longer he stays here, the closer he comes to becoming immortal. Forever is a long time to be alone and miserable, pining for someone who doesn't deserve that sort of devotion,” Tora grumbled, arms crossed over his chest.

“Look again, Tora-kun,” Isshi murmured, subtly gesturing to the table where Shin sat. “The leaves are all red and gold, orange and brown, and yet there he sits, very much not alone.”

And it was true. Shin was noticeably quieter than the four _ryuu_ at the table with him, but then Mitsuki and Takemasa together could make almost anyone look quiet in comparison. But more importantly, Shin was there, fully present in the moment and engaging with his companions. 

“There is more to life than romantic attachment, kitten,” Isshi said softly. “Forever is a long time, yes, but you can't force him to fall in love again just to assuage your own guilt. He's made his peace. Time you made yours.”

Giving the dragon one last squeeze of the shoulder, Isshi continued on to his own table alone. The seasons continued their procession, but this year was different. And for that, Isshi was glad.


End file.
